


Untitled

by SatyrSyd37



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, One Shot, SPOILERS FOR THE SCORCH TRIALS, a little violence, possibly for The Death Cure?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatyrSyd37/pseuds/SatyrSyd37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Thomas was confined in his cell at the beginning of The Death Cure, what was happening to the other Gladers? A take on what happened between Newt and Minho before all hell broke loose (again).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fanfiction I ever wrote!! I saw a tumblr post about the first fanfiction we wrote and was inspired to post this here. I'm not expecting a lot of hits, I mostly just wanted to put this on here for myself. 
> 
> In 8th grade, I was obsessed with YA novels and I liked to write so my friend and I decided to do a collaboration: I'd write a fanfic and she'd draw art for it. I remember seeing the rough draft, but I don't think she ever finished it...So yes, my first fanfic. I made a couple minor revisions, but otherwise left it unchanged. If you can tell, I wrote it long before I discovered the beauty of gay shipping...haha wow I've changed so much since then...
> 
> I apologize for any inaccuracies. I haven't read the books in years :P

“Minho.”

“Minho, wake up,” Newt hissed.

Minho turned himself away from the voice.

“Go away,” he mumbled. He was sore and tired, and wasn’t about to wake up now.

“Get up, you bloody shank!” growled Newt, as he kicked Minho in the shin.

“What the shuck was that for?” grumbled Minho, as he got to his feet. Memories came rushing back as he remembered where he had last been; on the Berg away from the Scorch at last. Now they were here, wherever _here_ was. He wiped his eyes and gave a tremendous yawn before asking the big question.

“Where are we?”

They stood in a clearing surrounded by monstrous pine trees. The clearing looked like a smaller version of the Glade: it had a small stone hut like the Map Room, flanked with crates of the supplies that usually came in the Box, but as Minho looked around, he saw no Box. A thick mist settled around the area, and the part of the sky that was visible was slate grey.

            It was eerily silent.

            “So,” Minho began, “How long have you been awake?”

            “Just a few minutes,” replied Newt. “I woke you up as soon as I was awake. You didn’t think I’d let you miss out on all the fun WICKED has planned for us this time, did you?”

            “Nah,” Minho mumbled. “Are we the only ones here?”

            “Looks like it.”

            “Then where the shuck are the rest of them?”

            “Not a bloody clue.”

            Minho had had the feeling that WICKED wasn’t done messing with the Gladers yet, even though they said they were done. _Looks like I’ve been proven right,_ he thought.

            Newt interrupted the silence, “I just hope they’re safe.”

            Minho turned around, “But what about us, Newt? Are we safe?”

            Silence again.

            “Well, I think we should take a look around this bloody place while we’re here. At least try to live through whatever klunk WICKED has planned for us,” Newt started trudging into the misty forest.

            “Wait up!” called Minho, as he ran after him.

            “Omp!” Minho ran straight into Newt, knocking them both to the ground.

            “Watch out, shank,” Newt slowly got up to his feet again, favoring his good leg, and looked around. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to be seen beyond five feet in front of them. The mist coated everything.

            “How about we mark where we’ve been?” Minho suggested. Newt turned around to face him. “I mean, how are we going to find our way back to that cabin? I saw food near it.”

            “Right.” Newt replied, and took a knife out of his pocket.

            “Hey! Where’d you get that?”

            Newt gave him a smirk, “I had a little look around that cabin before I woke you up. I though it might be useful. Here,” Newt pulled a dagger out of his boot and handed it to Minho. Minho snatched it out of his hands, shooting Newt a menacing glare. Newt just laughed, and then carved an arrow into the nearest tree using his knife, the arrow’s tip pointing towards the clearing they had just come from.

            The friends made their way through the forest. A half hour into their trek, Minho heard a slight sobbing noise. He turned around to face the sound, his ears straining to hear it again, but it was gone.

            “Newt?” he called. “Did you hear that?”

            “Hear what?” Newt hollered from up ahead

            “Never mind.”

            Minho continued in Newt’s direction, sure that he had heard something.

            “Minho?” He heard Newt’s voice waver. “Minho, get over here! Hurry!”

            Minho ran through the bushes, sure that whatever had made the noise had gotten Newt. He almost ran straight into Newt, who was only a few feet ahead, but tripped on a rock. No, not a rock. A brick-shaped stone.

            Minho looked up. In front of them stood a giant stone wall covered in green vines.

            Newt whispered, “We’re back.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

            The sun, or at least, _a_ sun, had finally peaked out from behind the grey sky, and was slowly setting just above the wall of the wood. Minho heard Newt panting, and waited for him to catch up before saying, “We’ve gone in a shuckin’ circle!”

            “Huh?” Newt looked up at him.

            “Look, there’s the arrow you first made.”

            “I guess it is a circle.”

            The Wood, as they had decided to call it, was a walled circular forest, with a river and a clearing in the middle. It wasn’t nearly as large as the Glade, but was mostly the same. There was a stream. But there were no doors.

            Minho started to head back in the direction of the arrows, but Newt called, “Wait, Minho, look.” Newt was pointing to a patch of brightness several yards ahead of them. He started walking towards it, as if in a trance, with Minho close behind.

            “Whoa. How could we have missed this?”

            There was an opening in the wall, just wide enough for the boys to slip through. On the other side was a cliff, just like one in the Glade, but there was a bottom, miles below. Minho couldn’t even see the side of the cliff, just the ground below it, which was covered in greenery. A faint glow from the sun blanketed the land, giving it a warm and inviting look.

            “Do we jump?” Newt asked.

            “Are you shucking crazy, Newt? We’d never survive that jump! You got the Flare?” Minho snapped.

            Newt just cringed.

            “Sorry,” Minho began, “Kidding! It’s just so frustrating. We thought WICKED was done with us, and now where stuck in this shucking place again.”

            “Not again; it’s just similar. And you don’t have to be so bloody mean about it,” Newt scowled. He had a distant look in his eye, one that Minho wasn’t familiar with. “We should go back, before it gets dark, I mean. Who knows, there could be Grievers waiting for us back at the cabin.” And Newt started to head back. Minho got one last look at the ‘sun’ as it set over the ever-so distant mountains, and Minho wished he could be there, in the mountains, away from WICKED’s grasp.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

_Three weeks later_

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

            That sound again. The one Minho had heard on the first day.

            It had been three weeks since their arrival at the Wood. There were no Grievers. No life of any kind, really. Newt and Minho had lived in the peaceful forest together, living off of the food provided and looking longingly over the cliff, which they decided to call the Edge, everyday, watching the sun rise and fall, with hardly saying a word.

            The food from the crate was just about gone. “Maybe they’ll starve us,” Minho had suggested. Newt had just turned away. They had searched the Wood numerous times for any exit, but had come to a gloomy conclusion. There wasn’t one.

            “Newt? Did you hear that?” Minho called to Newt from the porch of the cabin before Newt went to again search to Wood.

            “Hear what?” Newt turned back around.

            “That noise. The…the mechanical-ly sounding buzz.”

            “You feeling okay, Minho?”

            “ _Yes_. I’m not going crazy with the Flare, Newt.”

            _Sniffle, sputter, sniff sniff, gasp, ugh, sigh._

“Minho?”

            “You heard it?”

            “Yep.”

            “Got your dagger?”

            “Yep. You your knife?”

            “Yeah. Should we check it out?”

            “Good that.”

 

            It was coming from the river. The part that ended at the wall, right next to the Edge.

            “Be quiet,” Newt reminded Minho as the crept slowly nearer to the sound, which still rung clear in the peaceful forest.

            “Yeah, yeah, I – ”

            The sound stopped.

            Minho scanned the bare grassy area by the river just up ahead. A wave of tall grass next to a rather large river rock caught his eye. He held a finger to his lips and pointed. Newt nodded, he had seen it too, and they slowly approached the rock, weapons out and ready. Minho took a final step forward, and –

            _Crack._

            A gasp.

            Then three simultaneous

            “AHHH!”s

            They all stood panting for a second, starting at each other.

            A girl had jumped up from behind the rock. She had long, auburn hair, flowing over her shoulder like a cascading waterfall, framing her fair, delicate face and bringing out her strange violet-blue eyes which darted between Newt and Minho. Her small mouth was slightly ajar in shock, her pale pink lips breathing heavily. She was Minho’s height, her white dress revealing her slender figure. Minho realized it was the first time he remembered seeing a girl in a dress. It was, well, kind of nice.

            “Um…hi,” she muttered in a sweet sing-song voice. Minho just continued ogling over her.

            “Uh…guys? Any one home?” _And a sense of humor too_ … he thought.

            That brought Minho to his senses. He glanced over at Newt, who had obviously been astonished by her beauty, too. Minho was surprised to find a hostile feeling building up towards Newt.

            “Er…hey. Who – who are you?” Newt asked in his enticing accent. Minho grimaced.

            “I’m Iris…And you?”

            _Iris._

            “Iris. What a beautiful name,” Minho began, hoping to match Newt’s accent with compliments. The girl giggled. “I’m Minho. That’s Newt,” he said, gesturing to Newt.

            “Oh…How did you get here? Did WICKED tell you you had to ‘live up to being chosen’?” she asked, looking straight at him.

            Minho momentarily lost focus, and was about to respond when –

            “No, is that what they told you, Iris?” Newt asked sweetly, sympathetically.

            “WICKED didn’t tell us anything, just stuck us in the shucking place,” Minho interrupted, glaring at Newt as he spoke.

            “Oh,” Iris said. “So, do you know how to get out? That’s what they told me to do.”

            “No, but – ”

            “What’s that?” Iris asked, moving towards the same light Newt had seen which had led to the discovery of the Edge. Minho and Newt glanced at each other before running to catch up with the girl.

            _Boy, she’s fast,_ Minho though.

            He, being the Runner he was, was first to greet Iris, who looked over the Edge with the same longing look as the Gladers.

            He put a hand on her delicate, but strangely firm shoulder, looking into her eyes which looked over the edge.

            “Minho!” Newt hissed from the entrance. Minho turned around to see an angry looking Newt beckoning him to the entrance. Knowing he had no choice, Minho walked over to him.

            “Would you mind waiting next time, shank?”

            “Hey, no need to be aggressive. I just see a future with her; destroying WICKED together, finding a cure, settling down, having kids – “

            “Well, maybe I see a future with her too,” Newt proclaimed. They looked at each, for the first time with true menace, the distant look in Newt’s eyes again.

            “Oh boys!” mused Iris, urging them over near the edge. They both couldn’t help but stumble over. “Look, d’ya see that? Down there, to the left – looks like trees!”

            “What? I don’t see anything.”

            “Me neither, I haven’t seen anything down there – ”

            Iris shoved the boys.

            “AAHHHH!” Minho clasped the air for anything to hold onto, and found a sweaty hand there to pull him up. Minho scrambled up the rock on the cliff, holding onto the hand for dear life, pushing himself up with the help of the hand. A glance down brought shivers, and Minho heaved one last time before finding the edge of the rock and pulling himself up.

            Newt let go of his hand. They were both heavily panting.

            “Argg!,” wailed Iris, with a menace undetectable before then. A fire in her eyes showed a new side to the sweet girl by the river. To add to her new personality, she rushed at Newt with a new giant sword in her hand.

            Minho dove at her, barley managing to take down her surprisingly strong figure. He wrestled her for the sword, grabbing for it whenever he wasn’t avoiding a powerful punch. She struggled against him, finally managing to throw him off, and lunged at him, but he sidestepped. She had nicked his arm, but had lost her balance. Newt took his turn and brought his elbow down on her back, knocking her to the ground. As Minho struggled to get out his dagger, he saw Iris swing her sword, which met Newt’s calf. Newt crouched over in agony.

            Minho ran towards him, ready to strike as she got up. He swiped, she lunged, he dodged. They were soon engaged in a sword-to-dagger fight.

            “Why – do – you – want – to – kill – us?” roared Minho between jabs. She sliced his side and he doubled over.

            “Because,” she knocked to butt of her sword on Minho’s head. A blinding pain seared through his head as he swung his dagger blindly. “It’s the only way WICKED said I could free my family.” She jumped back before Minho’s blade met her knees.

            Minho got to his feet before she could stop him. “Then we’re on the same side, right?” he asked hopefully. She swung over his head; he ducked.

            Iris shrieked and toppled over, dropping her sword. Newt stood behind her, his hands still in fists.

            “Ha -, nice one, Newt – whoa!” Iris grabbed Minho ankle and tripped him. He fell right next to the edge. Iris came to her feet, and Newt attempted to grab her, but she elbowed him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

            Iris put her foot on Minho’s chest, putting all her weight on him, preventing him from getting up.

            “I’m sorry,” She said. “But I need to get my parents back.”

            In that moment Minho was sure he was going to die, exhausted, dirty, and beaten by a girl.

            “Can’t we-” Minho began but Newt tackled Iris and was punching and jabbing her aggressively, ignoring her shrieks of pain. He twisted her arm back when she reached for the sword, and her cry gave Minho chills. All the while Newt was mumbling, “Don’t…hurt…my…friend…gonna…hurt…you.” Minho was a little repulsed by Newt’s gruesome actions.

            Soon there were no sound coming out of Iris, but Newt was still maiming her.

            “Newt, dude – I think she’s dead.”

            Newt hazily looked up at Minho standing over him, the angry glint still in his eye and a snarl on his face. Not like Newt at all. But he nodded gruffly and shoved her body off the Edge.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Minho and Newt just panted.

            “Minho?” Newt asked.

            Minho turned to face him. The glint in Newt’s eyes was gone Newt’s jaw was bruised, and dirt caked his face. His hair was a rat’s nest. Minho imagined he looked quite similar.

            “Yeah?”

            “Let’s not tell the others. If we ever find them, of course.”

            “Good that.”

            The friends headed back to the cabin, stumbling after each other, smiling for the first and last time for a long while, considering that the Rat Man waiting patiently for the boys in the cabin.


End file.
